Learning: Winchester Style
by naturalsuper
Summary: Dean learns a lesson, Sam is sick. Weird genre mixture, please read!


Warnings: Some bad language…no spoilers, and I do not own them

Learning: Winchester Style

"Sam, you feeling okay? You don't look too good." Dean asks as he glances at his younger brother.

"I'm not feeling too good either." Sam groans, "I think I might be coming down with something."

'Oh-oh' Dean thinks, 'Must be feeling kind of bad to admit it. Hope it's not the flu.' He looks at the stretch of road, "We got about twenty miles or so ahead before we get to anything, and we'll stop there." He tells Sam. They are in the middle of nowhere and have been for awhile. Dean is beginning to wish they took more public routes than hardly ever traveled, therefore not much on the roadside, roads.

The car begins to stutter, like it is running out of gas. Dean _knows_ better, he just filled it up two towns back, right before they ate. It should be near full…He glances down at the gas gauge anyhow…see its empty…wait, empty? EMPTY!!!

'No freakin' way! How the Hell?' Dean thinks for a moment, 'Damn it! Stupid freakin' high gas prices are making the world go crazy! Freakin' crazy people, ciphering gas from _my _baby! Those good for nothing, low down crazy son of a…' The car gives one last stutter as he pulls over onto the shoulder of the road, and then it dies. 'I'm gonna find whoever _dared_ mess with my baby and then I'm gonna…'

"Why'd we stop?" Sam asks, interrupting his thoughts. Between Sam and the car, he's never going to get to finish a thought.

"We're out of gas." Dean mutters, half angry yet half annoyed and slightly embarrassed.

"Crap!" Sam replies, half groaning.

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean replies just as Sam jumps from the car, expelling the contents of his stomach seconds after getting out. Dean sighs in relief, then frowns, "You okay Sam?"

"Yeah, how far to the next town?" Sam replied a few minutes later.

Then Dean remembers the real reason they are on the side of the road anyhow. "Uh, maybe 19 or 20 miles ahead, 30 or 40 behind." Dean replies, "Just climb back in here, we'll stay here until traffic picks up. Uh, it's…11 at night, so I guess we got seven or eight hours."

"Dean, just go ahead to the next town. I'll stay here and watch the car. Get some gas and get a ride back here. No problem." Sam replied before getting sick once more.

Dean waited a moment, letting Sam have time to feel better. Once Sam climbed into the car he replied sarcastically, "Yeah right, leaving you here to take care of my baby with you sick. Somebody could damage her seriously before you scared them away with barf." Though the real reason is he doesn't want to leave Sam while he's sick. Someone could come along and hurt Sam, and he'd be weak and sick with no one to fight for him.

Thirty minutes of his patience wearing thin, Dean hears a car and knows this might be his only chance to get out of here before morning. He gets out of the car, trying to draw attention. The truck slows down, but before Dean can ask for the favor, they continue without stopping. They actually speed back up within moments. "Fine! Don't you call me if some fugly comes after you, you hear me!" Dean shouts, anger growing.

By now, Sam was in the back seat, although he was more commonly on the passenger side of the car. Sam lifted his head, "Dean?"

"Sorry Sammy, those crazy people won't stop to help. It like they think we're dangerous." Dean replied.

Sam snorted, "Yeah, because so many men need a ride in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere. No to mention we are wanted by the law, have a trunk full of weapons."

"They don't know that, and I can't help someone ciphered my baby's gas." Dean replied, only to begin muttering about people and payback.

Sam once more lurched from the car. Dean was glad they had tons of water stashed, even if most of it was Holy Water. They way Sam was going, he was bound to be dehydrated and only getting worse. Sam was shivering, so Dean went and retrieved the first aid and the blanket from the trunk. He wrapped Sam in the blanket and set on finding something he could give Sam. It was likely just the 24 hour bug, but he didn't want Sam suffering. He realized that anything for any sickness was out, and appeared to have been out of stock for at least a month or so. He felt of Sam's forehead, damn it, slight but no big fever.

'This day just keeps getting better and better!' Dean thought, 'No way could it get any worse.' The moment his thought was finished an owl flew over the Impala, using the bathroom on the hood. "Get back here you rat eater! You can't do that!" The creature continued to fly away, hooting with success as Dean reached for his gun, "I have a bullet with your name!" He shouted as it disappeared into the darkness. To be in the middle of nowhere, a lot sure could happen. Dean jumped when the door flew open and Sam jumped out of the car. 'Should be used to that by now.' He thought grimly. He rubbed Sam's back and helped him back into the back seat, once more covering him up. Sam looked exhausted.

A few hours, no passing vehicle, and a sicker Sam later and Dead was getting frustrated, worried, and somewhat stir crazy. He'd taken to caring for Sam the best he could while pacing in front of the car other times; his gun tucked into his waist. He was going to make sure nothing used his car as target practice or as a bathroom and fly away from the scene this time. He also wanted insurance in case something went wrong with the wrong person stopping. He wanted to go get help, but no way was he leaving Sam.

As dusk approached Dean thought he heard a car and sure enough, in the distance, a Ford Taurus was driving his direction. Dean grimaced, nothing like his baby, but it would work. This time, he bravely stepped out into the center of the road and stood waiting. When the car drew close, it came to a stop, the driver peeking his head out, "What's your problem?"

"I need help. My car's out of gas and I need someone to go get a five gallon thing of gas and bring it back here. I can't leave because my brother's here, in the back seat, sick. Please, if you do this, when you come back I'll give you money for my gas, your gas, and for simply doing this." Dean pleaded. He pulled out a large stash of well hustled money and showed them. The man was standing now, reaching for the money. "No, you have to get it first, I can't risk you just driving off with my money and not returning."

Minutes of negotiation and the man agreed, driving off. Dean sighed with relief and went to sit back down.

Later the man returned with Dean's gas, but would not give it over until Dean produced the money. Dean figured the guy had at least burned $50 in gas for him and for the double trip, so he gave the man $150 and said his thanks. The man was surprised to receive so much, but gratefully took it and drove off.

Dean filled the Impala with the gas before long, they were leaving. Dean sighed in relief once he enters the town, once more filling up the car. Looking at Sam, he decided to be cautious and took Sam to the ER.

A few hours of waiting, and minutes to diagnose: common flu. Bad, but could have been worse. They filled Sam's prescription (or rather a Mr. Barnhill's prescription) and headed off to the nearest hotel for rest.

A few days of rest and Sam was back to himself, like he'd never been sick in the first place. He decided that now would be a good chance to stock the aid kit back up and bought three more five gallon canisters. He filled them up, this would be good for any future time they might need gas, or for any hunt they might need this for, so it wouldn't go to waste.

"Sam, how good are you at solving crimes? I know you're good at research, right." Dean looked at Sam as he packed his stuff into his duffle.

"Uh, research is good, but I'm not too sure about solving crimes. Do you mean supernatural crimes?" Sam asks, looking up.

"No, I mean, lifting fingerprints and finding out who they belong too. Then researching where that criminal might live."

"I guess, if I had the right ID, I could do that…why would you need me too?" Sam was curious, but confused as well.

"I need you to lift the prints on the gas tank, excluding your prints and mine, and tell me who they belong too. I want to know who ciphered my baby." Dean replied.

Sam stared, "You're joking, right?" 'Crap, he's not joking.' "Dean, you can't kill someone for ciphering gas!"

Dean smiled, "No…but to need gas they must have a car. I figured since they weren't educated on my rules, I could _teach_ them to never mess with my baby again…"

**AN: So this was a result of a challenge by ****KKBElVIS, ****though I'm sure this was not expected. The challenge: Sick!Sam, middle of nowhere, Dean taking care of Sam. Yeah, hope this is still okay…this resulted instead.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you think! **


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